


A Day In January

by Open_Knowledge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Adorable Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Angel of Death Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archangel Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Castiel Watches Over Dean Winchester, Castiel's Handprint, Castiel's Wings, Crying Dean, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Half-Siblings, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean actually has a childhood, Dean is a Campbell - Freeform, Dean is a Sweetheart, Dean is not emotionally constipated, Falling Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Hell, Human Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Innocent Dean, John's a deadbeat but we been knew, Kinda, M/M, Non-Hunter Dean Winchester, Normal Dean, Short Story, Sweet Castiel, Sweet Dean, Very Very brief Major Character Death, Young Dean, Young Dean Winchester, because wtf, michael's an asshole, no underage anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Open_Knowledge/pseuds/Open_Knowledge
Summary: It's a cold early morning on January 24, 1979, and cries of happiness aren't the only ones filling the commotions behind closed doors.Inside room 217C, disgruntled and tired after the long hours of labor, Mary Campbell, alone and desolate, weeps and wails and mourns the death of her firstborn child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this story is inspired by Shakira's song Dia De Enero because it's just so sweet and everything is Destiel to me now.

* * *

Castiel walks through the empty corridors of the hospital, the lights flickering as he moves further down, passing closed rooms fill with doctors, nurses and parents alike.

It's a cold early morning on January 24, 1979, and cries of happiness aren't the only ones filling the commotions behind closed doors.

Inside room 217C, disgruntled and tired after the long hours of labor, Mary Campbell, alone and desolate, weeps and wails and mourns the death of her firstborn child. Castiel, taking over Azrael's Heavenly title as Angel of Death after his brother disappeared along with the Archangel Gabriel, is merely here to carry the young soul back to heaven. A soul that had made it out only to be brought back after only minutes of being alive on Earth.

It's a difficult job, and after only four centuries of doing it, Castiel hasn't gotten used to taking away souls loved so dearly by the others on Earth. Seeing the way some of the humans grieve threatens to break the hard, cold wiring his Father had created him and his brethren with.

Perhaps Castiel is the odd one from all his brothers and sisters, but he's sure that the sight of Mary Campbell in that hospital bed, alone and sorrowful, tears and snot covering her distressed face, holding her firstborn son close to her chest could've broken anyone's resolved, Angel of Death or not.

 _Birth Asphyxia,_ the doctor had said, _it's when a child's brain has suffered from oxygen deprivation, which in this case had led to hypoxia, very low levels of oxygen in the brain and other muscles._

What Dr. Adler had failed to mention was that it had been his own negligence that had caused the death in the first place. He hadn't taken notice or rather hadn't been quick enough to untangle the umbilical cord from around the young babe's neck.

Mary Campbell, ignorant of how medical injuries in newborn infants occur, hadn't suspected that it had been the doctor's doing that had led to her son's death. And as Castiel watches her, still weeping for the one soul that she believed would bring an end to her unluckiness, he breaks his first rule of Heaven in the forty-eight millenniums he has been conscious.

The distraught mother startles when she first notices him, but as she looks up, all she does is sob and wail. Castiel watches her from where he's standing near the closed entrance door, seeing the way her blonde hair sticks to her forehead and cheeks. Looking into her soul, he sees her pain and devastation over the newborn's death, but what truly captures Castiel's attention is how bright, and beautiful the soul in her arms is. In all the millenniums Castiel has been present in Heaven and on Earth, he has never seen a soul shine so brightly.

He steps forward, awed at such a sight. "What were you going to name him?" Castiel's human voice sounds deep and harsh due to lack of use, and it seems to startle Mary once again.

The young woman sniffles, still desperately holding onto her babe's small and fragile frame. "Dean," she whispers, looking up, letting Castiel see the pain and sorrow in her green eyes. "Dean Campbell after my mom, Deanna Campbell."

"Where's the father?" Castiel knows where John Winchester is, between his new wife's, Kate Milligan now Winchester, legs, enjoying himself. But he does not want to give away the fact that he knows such information. Also, it's perhaps the fact that Castiel's people's skills are rusty, so he doesn't know what is and isn't appropriate to ask, but he does regret his question when Mary shrugs, another sob rocking her body.

"Happily married, I think."

Dean's soul is still bright inside his human body, shining intensely even after his human death. Castiel thinks that if the young mother could see how beautiful her son is, her cries would increase and he's not sure whether it'd be in happiness or misery.

Castiel caresses the infant's cheek, taking notice of the small freckles covering it. "Dean's a good name."

Mary's laugh wavers, a smile barely gracing her face, but even then, she's still a beautiful woman. "Yeah, it is, huh?" She looks up, her eyes turning sad. "Too bad he won't be bearing it."

Castiel hums in response, thinking over his impending punishment as his next caress brings life back to Dean Campbell's human body.

"Oh my God," Mary's blasphemy goes ignore by him because he knows she's only truly expressing her amazement at this new development. Dean Campbell is alive once again, and his cries are now rocking his small, fragile frame. "Oh my God," she sobs, her smile widening, her soul now shining with disbelief and barely contained happiness. She looks up, new tears rolling down her face, but this time she's crying out of happiness. "How did you - how -" She sobs, keeping her question from making it past her lips.

The cries of Dean Campbell are getting increasingly louder, looking for the comfort of his mother. Castiel moves away, never taking his eyes away from the young soul.

"You should feed him, he is crying because he is hungry." Castiel can already feel the pull from Heaven, can feel the Host calling out to him, his brothers and sisters in disbelief, demanding to know why he had broken the rules. Why had Castiel, the obedient good soldier, and son, betrayed their Father's trust?

"Thank you," is Mary’s response before she starts calling out for the nurses and doctor. "Thank you so much," she cries, kissing her son's head, drawing him closer to her chest, letting him cry to convince herself that he is truly alive.

All Castiel does is give a nod, spreading his four thousand wings, the lights flickering once again as the nurses burst into the room, gasping and murmuring amongst themselves. Dr. Adler, incompetent as he is, only stares in wonderment.

"It's a miracle," one of the nurses proclaims, the new occupants in the room unable to see him. Mary keeps crying along with her son, her eyes moving up to him and down to Dean, the heart monitor beeping excessively due to her emotions.

It's before Castiel can't ignore Heaven's call and flies away, flapping his wings that he hears Mary whisper to her son, trying to comfort the loud wails.

"It's okay, baby," she laughs, blurry eyes looking up at Castiel one last time before he flies away. "An Angel is watching over you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really close to my heart. like this story is so important to me. i'm using writing fanfic as a coping mechanism because i physically can't even look at Sad Song rn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way Castiel's form is described on this fic comes from the description of Azreal (also referred to as the Angel of Death and other names) in the Wikipedia page [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azrael).
> 
> also, just fyi, chapters will remain short and easy.
> 
> thanks for reading :)

* * *

"You disobeyed the rules, Castiel. You should be punished for it," exclaims Michael.

After God had walked out of Heaven almost a millennia ago, it had fallen upon Michael the Archangel to oversee everything related to Heaven. It is him who has taken over the role of God and manages the Host as he sees fit with only Raphael at his side now that Gabriel has disappeared. However, God isn't as disconnected from them as Castiel likes to believe. After all, it had been the Lord Almighty that had assigned Castiel as the new Angel of Death despite his brethren's disbelief.

"I don't see why I should be, brother," Castiel pauses in his true form, all four faces, and as many tongues and eyes as there are humans on the Earth, taking notice of the Host there ready to judge him. "Breaking the rules, I have not. I have merely done what my job requires I do when I see fit as you do yours, Michael." The words are meant to be a jive to Michael and the way the Host tenses in a short millisecond lets Castiel know his brethren understood it.

Michael’s grace trickles with his anger. "You let the human take a look at your human form, knows what you are after you broke the rules. And for it, you shouldn't be exempt from punishment!"

Castiel moves his wings carelessly as if what his brother has accused Castiel of is no big deal and it only serves to anger his brother even further.

"You take your title of new God way too seriously, Michael," Castiel stops for a second when he hears the gasps and murmurs of his brothers and sisters. "I am not your subordinate, I don't respond to you. The one who I report to left Heaven a millennium ago and hasn't been back at all but to make me something I was not created to be. So forgive me when I do the job I was forced to do the way I see best."

Michael's grace flickers with uncontained anger, his wings expanding to their full height in a stance to intimidate him, but Castiel stands his ground.

"The child has to die, Castiel! The Prophecy wouldn't be fulfilled with just Dean as a vessel."

Castiel, with no hesitation, meets his brother’s rageful gaze.

"I don't care," Castiel says slowly, with an air of indifference that only helps fuel the rage in his brother.

Michael leaves his position at the head of Heaven's court to close the distance between himself and Castiel, his fury and sudden movement making the Host quiet and wait in anticipation to what is going to happen next.

No one has ever questioned Michael, nor has anyone gone against him, so the anticipation of what will happen next makes the room tense. Castiel is perhaps the only one who doesn't coward away from his brother.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Michael's voice is thunderous, loud enough for all the angels, present or not, to hear. "Do you have any idea why Azrael never committed such absurdity when he was entrusted to bring the souls to Heaven or Hell?"

Castiel doesn't comment, merely stares back at all his brother's many faces and eyes. His true form is an equal match to Michael's now that Castiel has climbed the ranks up so high that the only one whom he should fear is God Himself.

"You have revived a human with your touch, used your grace to bring back life to a soul. You have now left part of your grace, no matter how little of it, on Dean Campbell's soul." Michael moves closer, growling his next words. "He's supposed to be the Righteous Man; _my_ vessel. If Dean's soul were to bear any grace's mark, it should have been mine."

Castiel moves away from his brother before responding, "Too bad it was I that made the decision to let him live, then." He turns away, readying his wings to take flight.

"You have ruined the course of time and history, Castiel. The boy is meant to be a Winchester. John and Mary are meant to procreate two offsprings! We need the Apocalypse to happen the way our Father-"

"Very unfortunate Father gave humans their free will as well, then, Michael!"

Michael's voice is louder, Castiel taking air to fly away. "That child will die one way or another, Castiel!"

Castiel doesn't pause, but he does look at his brother one last time, his glare challenging before finally flying away. "I'd like to see you try, Michael."

The Host murmurs among themselves, disturbed but Castiel is already gone to know what they could possibly have to say on the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this story we're gonna pretend like mary's actually nice unlike how she was in s12.

* * *

Despite his threats, Michael doesn't act upon them.

Castiel is unsure as to why, but he doesn't do much but leave the matter alone. He does, however, spend the next few years looking over the young Campbell boy.

Dean is as exuberant as Castiel had believed he would be.

It was adorable seeing an infant Dean causing trouble for his mother, giggling loudly when Mary would come to collect him away from whatever mess he had made. During this period of his life, Castiel would appear next to Dean and play with him when his mother was busy in the kitchen or working in the next room, the Angel always sure nothing too serious happened that could injure the boy.

Castiel enjoyed the time spent with the child, taking breaks from reaping souls and transferring them between Hell and Heaven. The time spent in Dean's company was a true relieving act; Castiel always excited to see the bright young soul up close.

Dean seemed to enjoy his company just as much, laughing and clapping his hands excitedly every time he heard the fluttering of Castiel's wings. In more than one occasion, the boy had made a grab for them, laughing whole-heartily when Castiel would move them away, thinking the action a great, exciting game. Castiel never liked anyone touching his wings, but he had a soft spot for the child, so in the end, he would indulge the little boy.

As Dean kept growing, however, Castiel started to become worrisome about his visits, knowing he couldn't risk another human knowing about him. He started coming less when the boy called for him, but when he did visit, he would engage in small conversations with Dean. He would talk about Heaven, about life itself, telling biblical stories, explaining the inaccuracies in the bible, all the while holding the boy in his arms tighter everytime.

Dean would peer up at him with his green eyes, giving Castiel all the attention he couldn't believe a child could muster. Dean would babble away as well, responding when Castiel would give him a moment to answer, a firm grip on one of Castiel's wings, his face scrunched up in concentration as he talked and inspected the vibrant dark, midnight colors of his wings.

It was silly to think Dean could understand their conversations but it never deterred Castiel to continue speaking to the small child and letting him interrupt when Dean wanted.

The years kept passing way too fast for Castiel's liking, even if time took longer to pass on Earth, and it was when Dean turned four that he realized that he needed to stop his impromptu visits.

Dean had started talking, making greater efforts to collaborate on the conversations more and more, and that also meant him making new friends and trying to include them during their time. Dean was small, but still extremely intelligent, and it was way too soon before Castiel realize that he needed to leave the child alone.

It broke his heart the first time Dean had called out to him, looking around the room, alert for the fluttering of his wings. Castiel stood in one corner of the boy's room, unseen, watching as the boy moved around to look for him.

"Cas? Playtime with me?" He had asked, opening his closet to look in there, using the nickname he had given Castiel because it had been too much of a mouthful for a young child to pronounce the Angel's whole name.

Castiel's human heart had felt heavy seeing the boy look for him, calling out even louder until he started pouting, his eyes filling up with tears as time passed and his calls for the Angel went unanswered. "Cas play with Dean!"

The shaky demand had almost broken his resolved, the small face turning red, the little freckles that Mary liked to tell Dean were Angel kisses becoming more noticeable against the rosiness. Dean had started to cry then, still calling out to Castiel, opening doors all around the house looking for the Angel.

It had been a while until Mary had caught up with him and picked him up that the boy's sobs had started to calm as the young mother comfort him.

"Would you tell mommy why you were crying, baby?" Mary had pulled away a little, catching the sad gaze of her son, wiping the tears away from his face softly. Mary had turned out to be a caring woman and Castiel had never been more grateful for her than he had been at that moment.

Dean's bottom lip had trembled a little before he started to explain. "Cas don't come to play with Dean, mommy. Cas don't love me." The subsiding sobs came back in full force and they had done nothing but make Castiel's human heart hurt.

"Oh, Dean, I'm sorry." Yet, his whispered apology had gone unheard by either of the humans.

Mary had pulled him back to her, soothing the small child again, looking around the living room. "Don't worry, baby. I'm sure Cas will still watch over you."

For a brief moment, Mary's eyes had caught his, making the Angel tense, but she had quickly looked away.

••• 

Later that night, as Dean was tucked into bed, lights turning off, the boy almost asleep, Castiel had appeared next to him. The excited way Dean had jumped up from his bed, throwing himself against Castiel's arms, all remnants of sleep gone, had made the guilt and shame fill his grace.

"Cas, I missed you! You don't play with me today," he peered up at the Angel like the many times he had done in the past as he held onto Castiel's wings. The boy had started complaining about Castiel not showing up in his very limited vocabulary. Frowning, Dean had told him that he had to spend time with the little boy from across the street to play since the Angel hadn't shown up. "I called you, but you did no come, Cas. Cas don't love me."

The way his heart had filled with guilt and sadness knowing that his absence wouldn't be the last, Castiel had hugged Dean tight and whispered in his ear how much the boy meant to him. "I'll always be there when you need me, Dean. You might not see me, but I'll be there."

He had kissed the boy's forehead, held him close to his chest until Dean had fallen asleep in his arms. He had tucked him back into bed, whispering his love for the child - love, and other emotions that Angels are not meant to feel for anyone else but their Father. "I'll always watch over you, Dean."

Despite his promise, Castiel gets busier with Heaven and Hell duties, an uproar, and civil war breaking up in Heaven, and sadly, Castiel doesn't see Dean for years to come. He does, however, entrust Bartholomew to report to him about the Campbell boy.

Castiel hears a lot about Dean in the beginning despite not seeing him. The way Dean had felt on his first day of first grade; the way he had started to make new friends; how he had convinced their teacher to adopt a class pet because he had seen it once in a movie and he thought it would be a great idea for his whole class to have more responsibilities than just boring homework. How he was more interested in math and sciences, and classic cars and so much more that seemed to remind Mary of John at moments.

Bartholomew mentions once the young boy asking about Castiel, causing him to face the guilt and sadness over his decision to leave Dean. But over time, it seems like Dean forgets about him because Bartholomew never says anything about Dean asking about him after that. And Castiel also stops hearing the calls from Dean that had been so very difficult to ignore as well.

And as it seems, news start not coming as frequently as he'd like.

Castiel does learn about teenage Dean a little, however, and the difficulties of growing up without a father, which lead him to ask questions, which subsequently leads to a serious problem between the young mother and her son when there aren’t many answers.

Things get better, however, and as soon as Dean grows out of his rebellious fit it’s like there was never a drift between his mother and him. Castiel’s so content to know that Dean is experiencing life the way he wasn’t meant to be just because Heaven wanted to take away his life for some devine prophecy that Castiel believes should never fall upon any human being.

Castiel has never felt as content and, his Father forgive him, prideful as he feels when he learns how happy and carefree and loved Dean grows up to be. Learning about life and engaging in different things and expressing himself the way he couldn’t have if he had truly died. 

Dean’s a wonderful young man from the last he hears but soon news stop coming and Castiel is too distracted reaping souls and managing the little control he has over his job as an Angel of Death to notice. 

No matter how much he hated to admit it, dealing with Heaven and Hell can take its toll on an Angel of Death.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Castiel's distraction is what leads him to his current situation and there's no amount of anything that can help him cope with the overwhelming guilt and rage over it.

He finds out about Michael's plans of actions a little too late. It's not until he hears from Samandriel that Castiel moves into action himself.

Dean Campbell is twenty-six with a recently dead mother and in his desperation to bring her back, strikes a deal with a crossroads' demon, which had led him to Hell.

This new development infuriates him to no end. He had entrusted Bartholomew to look over the Campbell boy. To find out about such deal three Earth months after it occurred, Dean having spent two of them already in Hell is his undoing.

He's not even aware of how Dean could've possibly known about summoning a crossroads' demon to strike a deal, let alone him not know that if one is to even think of making a deal the amount of time giving should be ten Earth years not a miserable month.

Castiel is in such disbelief over the events that he doesn't think before he's acting. There's nothing more driving him than the rage simmering so dangerously under his grace. And perhaps also guilt.

As an Angel of Death, a servant of God, he's aware that nothing should come before his duties nor his Father. But Castiel has long ago accepted that there's no one, human or Holy Entity, that could possibly come before Dean Campbell for Castiel. The boy had been Castiel's to watch over; a friendly soul to spend time with after spending so much of his existence alone, and Castiel had failed him.

Mary Campbell had been sure that Castiel would look over her son - Castiel himself had _promised_ Dean that he would look after him and what has he done? Turn his back on him the same way John Winchester had done? Or is this perhaps worst? Because Castiel is sure John at least had never promised to stay; to care.

But Castiel had.

The pain is too unbearable that he can barely think.

Castiel wants to have a clear strategy but the fact is that he cares way too much about Dean; way too much that it has hindered his train of thought. All he can do is try to keep from smiting anything that crosses his path. But no matter how much he tries, there's nothing that can help his brother now.

"I trusted you with this, Bartholomew, and you betrayed me!" He's in his true form, fighting the brother he had trusted blindly, Angel blade drawn out to cut and torture. "I asked you for a simple favor and you couldn't respect me enough to follow through."

Bartholomew howls when the blade cuts one of his wings, falling to his knees when standing becomes too painful, clutching desperately the hurt appendage.

He thinks he ought to feel some kind of remorse, but the deep betrayal coming from someone he had thought would never turn against him is way too much to ignore and appease. All Castiel wants to do is cut through Bartholomew's wings to perhaps let him feel an ounce of the pain he himself is experiencing at the moment. Father knows Castiel is hurting and it's so powerful it has become way too much for him to process.

Not once in all the millenniums Castiel has lived has he ever felt so utterly devastated.

"Castiel, please. I was just following orders. I was just doing what Michael asked!"

Castiel pauses for a second, all billions of his eyes sizing his brother up, trying to read if he's lying or not.

Bartholomew's grace is bleeding through the multiple cuts on his true form. Castiel finally feels the guilt wash over him when he takes a moment to analyze the damage he has done, yet no amount of guilt can override the anger that is consuming his grace.

Perhaps he's wasting time here talking to Bartholomew. Maybe his time here should be spent trying to rescue Dean out of Hell. But he needs to know what Michael's plans are before proceeding. He also needs to know what corner of hell Dean has been sent to. 

The thought only serves to make the overwhelming hurt run through his grace in a way that renders Castiel frozen. He takes a moment to close his eyes to keep from letting such  _emotions_ show.

Castiel's an Angel,  _the_ Angel of Death, he can't show any weakness. It should be completely shameful to even experience something so strong over a human.

Fragile things, his brethren would say, yet Castiel will never think them less than his Father's greatest creation. And that, he knows, is why he feels so strongly about this. But it's more than that, he also knows, because although he believes there's nothing greater than humanity, Dean, out of all the humans in existence, past and present, has come to mean everything to Castiel. Dean has become the very definition of what Castiel thinks humanity is; should always be.

Once again he can't help the disgrace feels he has become for turning away from Dean.

"John had another son," Bartholomew exclaims, crying silently, bringing Castiel's attention back to the present. "Sam Winchester."

Castiel frowns, confused. "And? I don't understand why that should matter -"

"The Apocalypse, Castiel! Michael wants to start the Apocalypse." Bartholomew is panting, barely holding himself up, but that's not what has captured Castiel's attention. Thinking about it now, it makes perfect sense and he can't believe he hadn't figured it out sooner. "It doesn't matter that he is not Mary Campbell's child, as long as he carries Winchester's blood, he's as good as he could've been to be Lucifer's vessel."

He stops, his grace trickling with disbelief, uncertainty, and worry but most of all anger.

As an Angel, it is surprising how colorful Castiel's language can get.

It's with rage burning through his grace that he flies away to find Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. comment and tell me what u think about the story so far?


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Castiel searches for Michael for quite some time until he finally finds him in Heaven, sitting at the head chair of Heaven’s court. His stance is arrogant, so uncaring about the fact that he has taken the one soul Castiel so dearly cares about for such an unnecessary event to take place. It makes anger run through his grace at being mocked so freely.

“I warned you, Michael,” he says, not wasting time.

“As I did you, brother.” Michael takes a moment to look him over, taking notice of the desperation pulsing through his brother's grace, feeling disappointment settle in his own grace at the sight. “What happened to you, Castiel?” 

Castiel watches Michael leave his place, staring him down as he slowly approaches him, his brother’s true form all-encompassing. 

“You fought alongside me as well as the rest of our Seraph brothers. You were dedicated to the cause, had ‘your head on track’ so to speak.” Michael pauses, just a few feet away from him, seeing into all billions of his eyes. “What changed so abruptly that you no longer want to serve Heaven and our Father?”

The question is meant to make him feel guilty. Michael wants to manipulate him the same way he does most traditional Angels, but Castiel has risen far above of this  _prophecy_ to be blinded by such limited and selfish beliefs, again. It’s a sure enough thing that perhaps God didn’t intend for Castiel to dedicate himself to being free at will when he had reinvented him, but Castiel has long stopped caring about what God and all his short-sighted brethren think like.

Castiel stares back, not once backing out, meeting his brother’s gaze head-on. “Where is Dean Campbell’s soul, Michael?”

The long disappointed sigh Michael lets out makes Castiel’s grace prickled with uncontained ire.

“I told you he needed to die to be able to bring the end of times, Castiel.”

“And I remember being cleared about me not caring about what needed to be done for that to happen,” Castiel pauses, his grace flickering even more as the rage takes over. “I’m not going to repeat myself again, Michael. Where is Dean Campbell’s soul?”

Michael’s Angel sword manifest all of a sudden, and Castiel sighs inwardly because he should’ve known Michael wouldn’t have caved without a fight.

“You do understand that he's  _my_ vessel, Castiel?”

“As if I ever cared about that,” Castiel replies.

“Don’t you want peace, brother? Don’t you want to stop all of this nonsense and have paradise already?”

“What I want is for you to tell me where Dean is!” The space between them turns intense and dangerous as Castiel pulls out his own sword. “God isn’t here, so _what?_ I will not be selfish enough to bring about the end of times at the expense of some innocent souls.”

“They are all sinners, Castiel. They deserve to die.”

“They’re humans, Michael. It’s what they’re supposed to do. If God wanted obedient, little soldiers like us, he wouldn’t have gifted them their free will.”

Michael’s grace flares in annoyance, Castiel never taking his attention away from his brother’s sword. “Yes, God’s favorites.” It’s with disgust that he expresses himself, and it all serves to make Castiel’s patience run thin.

“Careful, Michael. One ought to think you’d be siding with Lucifer -” Castiel isn’t able to finish when he notices the small twitch of Michael’s grace before he attacks him.

The fight is long and harsh, and at some point, Castiel thinks he’s going to die before he’s actually able to rescue Dean.

“Give it up, Castiel. It doesn’t matter what you are now, you will always be nothing but a puppet to Heaven’s will.”

Castiel lunches forward, one of his wings severely damaged, but he doesn’t let it slow him down. Michael isn’t faring much better, fortunately, as Castiel’s sword sears through one of his primary wings. Michael cries out in pain, only leaving him defenseless for a few seconds too long but it’s enough for Castiel to subdue him. Their graces are flickering, cuts covering their true forms, cuts large enough to let said graces to seep through.

“Where is Dean Campbell, Michael,” Castiel demands, voice menacing.

Michael stares up at Castiel, the look in his eyes unlike anything he has ever seen before and Castiel thinks there has to be another reason why Michael is so desperate to bring about the Apocalypse.

“You will have to kill me before I ever tell you where Dean’s soul is.”

Castiel tightens his hold on his blade, putting more pressure where is caught between Michael’s wings, making his brother howl in pain.

“I won’t repeat myself, brother -”

Michael’s sudden laugh startles Castiel, interrupting him, his hold faltering for a second but Michael’s distracted enough to not notice it.

“You, Castiel, are nothing but a weak, good for nothing, low-level Angel,” he snickers, keeping his gaze trained on Castiel. Castiel’s not sure how to respond, his grace filling with barely contained irritation and shame, because no matter how much he’d like to ignore it, the insecurity that Michael’s been better, more important to Heaven’s cause, still makes him feel like he’s nothing but what his brother claims Castiel is. Especially knowing that Dean was truly never meant to be anything to Castiel like he did to Michael. “You think because Father took pity on you and gave you a little bit of power you can go against me?” Michael laughs again, condescendingly, before continuing. “I’m a true Archangel; a real soldier. You are nothing but a mere expandable Angel soldier and you will always be. You’re weak, feeling things for humans that we are not meant to feel. You’re fighting Heaven; going _against_ Heaven the same way Lucifer did for a soul that belongs to _me._ ”

Castiel’s grace feels the pain at the words because he thinks they might be true but he also reminds himself that it doesn’t matter that God intended Dean to be Michael’s vessel. In the end, it had been Castiel who had cared for him; the one to bring him back to life when Michael wanted him dead.

“I might be whatever you think I may be, Michael, but I will never be vile enough to _murder_ an innocent human for my personal gain.” Castiel exhales harshly as he tightens his hold on Michael when his brother tries to break free. He adds more pressure on his sword, cutting part of Michael’s wing, making his brother cry out in pain before resting it against another part of the damaged wing. “What are you trying to do, Michael? Why are you so desperate to end the world?”

“Why aren’t you, Castiel? Aren’t you tired of the same?” Michael pants, holding onto Castiel’s sword to alleviate some of the pressure against his wing. “There’s nothing to live for Castiel; nothing to protect. If Father Himself left why do we have to carry on when He didn't?”

"Because it's our duty, Michael! Father gave us our duties for a reason!" Castiel moves to stand before his brother, keeping a strong hold of him. "You speak so much about what our Father wants but refuse to acknowledge that making humans suffer isn't what he intended."

"Then why write the Apocalypse the way He did, Castiel? How do you explain His will?"

Castiel falls silent, unable to respond, because It's true, he realizes. If God so cared for the humans why even bother writing a destiny so hurtful? Why make Dean go through such a painful life to end the world; to kill His most precious creation?

He feels his grace pulse with sadness, his hurt obvious enough for his brother to see.

"You're pathetic, Castiel."

The comment wounds him, but he ignores it. Castiel's wasting time, and he's still not close to obtaining the information necessary to find Dean. He's desperate enough that he starts pleading.

"Please, brother," Castiel doesn't even try to hide how much he needs to know where Dean is. "Dean doesn't deserve this. He's a good human. Why can't you tell me where -"

"Because he's  _mine!"_ Michael exclaims. "My vessel, Castiel and you claimed him when he wasn't yours to claim!"

Castiel stops, staring but not really seeing, processing this newfound information. "That's the reason why you want this? Over your hurt pride?"

"No, don't misinterpret my words, Castiel. I couldn't care less for him, but he was mine and you claimed him and had no repercussions for it! I prayed to Father, went to Joshua to plead for your punishment but nothing happened to you. You never paid for your crimes." Michael pauses, his gaze filled with resentment Castiel had never seen directed at him before. "What makes you so special, Castiel? What is it about you that makes our Father ignore you breaking the rules?"

Castiel doesn't say anything, letting Michael continue.

"The rest of our brethren hasn't fared the same way when one of them breaks the rules, we all know Lucifer certainly didn't, so why do you get to?"

"What do you want me to say, brother? If this is about me, why make  _Dean_ suffer?"

"Because it's the only thing out there that you care about enough to hurt you!" Michael explodes, pulling his severed wing away from Castiel's sword, hissing when it cuts through his wing again. "He's the only thing I could use to punish you! Because letting Alistair maim and torture the very thing you care about would finally make you pay for breaking Heaven's rules!"

Castiel tenses, hearing the information he so desperately needed but also pained over this confession. How could Michael be so arrogant and prideful to ever make someone suffer for Castiel's crimes?

He pulls his brother close to his body, taking a long time to think about how to proceed. Time ticks by as Castiel thinks over his options, staring and pulling his brother closer to himself before making up his mind. His hold on the damaged wings becoming painful as he whispers the last words to his brother.

"You, Michael, are no different from Lucifer." He pulls his sword out and with pounding anguish simmering under his grace, stabs his brother. 

Michael dies in his arms and despite his reasons for killing him, Castiel hurts when Michael's grace burns before letting him fall at his feet. He allows himself enough time to mourn before flying away in search for Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading! I might not be able to update again so soon because I have finals next week and i desperately need to study. but as soon as this ugly ass semester is done, i'll be back to finish this! in the meantime leave me some comments letting me know how you're liking this? i love validation from anyone who can give it to me.
> 
> thanks again!
> 
> ps. i might go thru this chap again later!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok yall i've been busy. money's really low @ home and I'm having problems w my fam which has literally kept me from writing and reading over my stories. I'm sorry about that.  
> but i'm finally here. better late than never right?
> 
> um... i also have a question, i still barely know how to use this website (how stupid ik) and i got an email requesting one of my one shots to be included in destiel fav collection or whatever but idk how to do that. Like i went to collections like it says in the email but there wasn't anything there? i feel like a fucking gma asking for help but i deadass dont know how to do it. would anyone mind helping?
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading. love y'all :)

* * *

 

There's nothing but destruction, pain, and devastation in Hell. Castiel, as the Angel of Death, has spent plenty of his time there to deliver corrupt souls; souls that have done the most despicable things someone as a human can do. But there are also souls that are there for selfish reasons without having to commit heinous crimes, as well. People who have sold their souls due to their greed not being satisfied, not that Castiel can judge. It is very difficult to know what is right and what isn't in a world where certain people are set to fail.

Castiel knows what kind of people are in Hell, has seen what happens to the souls down there; what kind of pain they endure. Angel of Death doesn't mean not feeling guilty for participating in bringing souls down here; doesn't mean he doesn't question the will of his Father. Angel of Death doesn't mean he doesn't _care._

When delivering souls, Castiel has walked around Hell with detachment as he hears the pleads of people, the screams for help and mercy. Most of the souls down there may not deserve it, but there's also that small group of souls that are there for reasons that have nothing to do with being selfish or a bad person. People who have been tricked into selling their souls for the gain of others, or for the life of someone else - reasons that make Humanity the great thing his Father intended it to be. It all comes full circle for Castiel and he can't help but question his Father, ask _why?_

This time around he can't cling to the detachment as he has done before, can't ignore the cries of the people who Castiel  _knows_ don't deserve to be there. He has arrived down there, thirty-nine years into Dean Campbell's sentence with his heart on his sleeve and can't ignore the cries of pain.

He starts with the young souls, the children who have been tricked or forced for whatever reason into selling their souls. Castiel uses most of his grace to pull the souls from whatever hole they've been banished to and releases them by groups. The clock is ticking but no matter how long it takes him, Castiel thinks he can't with a good conscience leave innocent souls down here. Just imagining the type of pain they must feel after realizing that they're in almost the same situation as the one soul he dearly loves is too close to home to ignore.

His grace is shining bright, gaining the attention of all the souls surrounding him, but also attracting the attention of the lower Demons. Castiel, in his true form, slays every single Demon that crosses his path, maims and tortures and slowly kills every single Demon, hoping they'd feel an ounce of the pain they had inflicted on innocent souls. It happens so fast, but Castiel is on a mission and even though it doesn't take as long as he thinks it should've to kill a crowd of Demons, he still feels like he's wasting time. The longer he waits, the more Dean suffers.

He gets distracted thinking about it that it's enough of an opportunity for one of the Demons to twist one of his arms, the one holding his Angel blade, and sear his blade through four of his secondary wings simultaneously. Castiel falls to his knees, letting a grunt of pain out before tightening his grip on his blade and pushing it deeper without thinking much about it and stabbing the Demon. His wings twitch in pain and he's panting, trying to ignore the great pain he's currently experiencing as he hears the Demon scream in pain as it dies.

It's the last Demon and he has just moments of reprieve before he hears him. It's not loud from where he's kneeling, cradling his injured wings, but it's still enough to make him hurt and break his heart. 

"Mom! Mom, please I'm sorry!" He hears, cries and sobs accompanying the plead, enough to get the Angel on his feet and follow the sound of Dean's voice. Castiel is aching, his wings hurting as he walks, but the next words have him ignoring his pain as he uses his wings to fly faster through the maze that is Hell. "Cas, please don't leave me again!" Dean calls out and Castiel breaks all over again.

There's too much going on once he reaches the spot Dean is, Demons coming from every direction and Castiel only gets a small glimpse of Dean being tortured before all the Demons are on him. It's too much, too many Demons at once but he can't let them win, damn it! He made it this close, he can't give up now. "Cas! Please!" Not now when Dean has set eyes on him and is calling for him.

"I knew you'd come," Dean sobs, his eyes leaking tears, his face covered in snot and soul, even though still bright, dull from the abuse he has suffered. "I knew you were real."

Castiel can't take a moment to linger on the thrill of knowing Dean didn't forget about him when Alistair is on him, sneering at him with the ugliest face and darkest soul.

"Well, well, well! Look at what the cat dragged in!" Alistair hisses, stopping long enough to look at Castiel. It's like they had picked the best of the best to torture his beloved. The thought has him blind with fury, his mind in a haze and Castiel doesn't know how it happens, doesn't register his own actions before his reaching his Grace and burning every single Demon in that room. He doesn't give Alistair the opportunity to exist any longer; can't let him breathe near Dean a second longer.

His Grace burns out, batteries on low and the Angel falls to his knees, the pain and exhaustion he feels make crawling to Dean difficult. Dean, who's suspended up in the air, his soul carved into, using magical chains to hold him up, cries and murmurs. What he's saying is lost to Castiel, the buzzing in his ears also giving him a hard time trying to hear what Dean is saying. 

Looking up, gritting his teeth together before flying to unhook Dean from the chains holding him up makes him hiss in pain. Once he gets Dean in his arms, however, Castiel can't seem to focus on anything but Dean. 

"Oh, Dean," he whispers, using now his human form to look over Dean and hold him. There's so much damage on his soul, so many marks and injuries shadowing the brightest soul Castiel has ever seen. The magnitude of the damage has him apologizing, pulling the soul closer, rocking him back and forth as pleads for forgiveness fall from Castiel's lips. "I'm so sorry, Beloved. I'm so sorry I wasn't fast enough."

Dean keeps whispering, _praying_ Castiel now realizes, and not praying to his Father or any other God, but  _Castiel_. Castiel's sob shakes him to his core because for the first time in all the millenniums he has been present on Heaven, Hell, and Earth, bloody tears fall down his face for Dean and his righteous soul, sobbing with such pain loud enough for his brethren to hear and _feel._

It's at that moment, that very specific moment, when the Host of Heaven realizes themselves as they hear their brother cry out, that the Universe's Angel of Death, Archangel Castiel, is in love... with Humanity.

The Archangel Castiel has fallen in every way imaginable for the Righteous Man.


End file.
